


Odin's Promise

by GoldsJRZGirl



Series: Getting Away  With Mischief [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Orphan - Freeform, Parental Odin, Sacrifice, War, baby Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldsJRZGirl/pseuds/GoldsJRZGirl
Summary: "You cannot save me, Wanderer. But you can save my son . . . Promise me." A promise to an old friend will change Odin's life, and Loki's, forever. Baby Loki fic! AU Thor. A Getting Away With Mischief prequel.





	Odin's Promise

**Odin’s Promise**

**(A Getting Away With Mischief prequel tale)**

_There is nothing more compelling, magical, and lovable than the eyes of a curious child~ Odin_

 

_Jotunheim long ago:_

Odin had not known when he used the Bifrost to set foot on Jotunheim that he would be stepping into the middle of a massacre. Nevertheless that was what he found. Corpses as far as his eye could see. The corpses of his soldiers, obviously slain by the Jotun. When he drew closer, he could see that the soldiers had died, seemingly without a mark on them of a weapon. The young king of Asgard frowned, not understanding at the moment what had occurred. How could these soldiers all die without battle wounds?

But as he picked his way between them, their sightless eyes staring up at a sky they would never see again, he saw upon a hill a swath of gold and blue. Making his way to the high ground, Odin beheld a sight that would live forever in his memory, never to be forgotten. For there on the ground in a puddle of blue and gold silk and white frost bear fur, was his dearest friend, and first love, the Queen of Jotunheim, Astra Winterfrost, who was now Astra of House Icefyre and wife of King Laufey.

Her dark hair lay in a swath across her frost bear cloak, her skin pale as the icy landscape she ruled over. Only her eyes, those evergreen mischievous eyes, lent color to her face. She lay on her side, one hand clutching a broken ivory staff.

Then Odin knew.

“Astra!” he gasped, falling to his knees beside her. “Oh, Wildcat, what have you done?”

She looked at him then, her voice barely audible over the cawing of the ravens. “Wanderer?”

Odin smiled at the nickname, which she had given him long ago, back when he was cast out by his father Bors for refusing to be a tyrant king and  telling Bors that he wished to be a thread mage instead. After being beaten within an inch of his life, Odin limped into the road and collapsed—to be found by Rogue and Astra Winterfrost, who were travelling magicians, father and daughter, and an unknown princely guest—the shifted Laufey, whom Astra called Raven. Laufey too had been a child of misfortune, and both princes owed their lives to the bright girl they would call Wildcat, for her spitfire temperament and stubbornness.

Odin cupped the woman’s cheek in his hand. “I’m here, Wildcat.” He tried to deny the inevitable, though he was warrior enough to know when a comrade was dying. _No! Norns, please! Don’t take my Wildcat from me!_ “Don’t talk. I will bring you back home to Asgard—”

“This _is_ my home, Odin. I am Queen. Here I have reigned and here I shall die. There is no Healer that can save me now. Not after . . . a mage’s Final Strike . . .”

He could feel her slipping from him and he clutched her to him with a soft cry of denial. He knew, as a wizard himself, what a Final Strike was. And for a mistress of magic such as she was—no wonder an army lay dead at her feet. _Dare not the wrath of the Archmage of Asgard,_  he thought, struggling not to weep.

Astra could feel her life force slipping away, and she grasped her old friend’s wrist. “Listen, Odin! Listen to me!” she snapped hoarsely. “You cannot save me, Wanderer. My time upon this earth is finished, and Valhalla beckons me. But you can save my son. Save my Loki, Odin. Krishna has him in the temple.” Her fingers dug into his wrist, stinging sharply, but he barely noticed the pain.

“In the temple? But why?”

“Because . . . that fool priest believes that my son is weak because he is smaller than the average Jotun babe. Krishna wishes to sacrifice him! But he will grow! This I have Seen!” She began to gasp for breath. “Promise me, Odin!”

Odin bowed his head, his good eyes filling with unshed tears. “I . . . promise, Astra.”

She smiled at him sweetly. “Take him and raise him as your own . . .you and Frigga . . . he will be safe . . .”

“I promise, Astra.” Odin murmured assent, his voice choked with grief. “Let me give you some of my magic . . .”

But even as he spoke, she faded from him, her spirit leaving her broken body.

Odin clutched her to his chest and howled, his grief sweeping through him like a gale. “Astra! Don’t go!”

The wind caught his frantic sobbed plea and shredded it, and then the rain came, cold as death, mingling with the tears upon his cheeks.

He laid her down there, in the circle on the hill, and used his magic to cause a mound of stone and earth to rise above her, with a single marker of fine Asgardian marble in the shape of a wildcat. _In loving memory of Astra Winterfrost Icefyre—Queen, Archmage, Mother, Wife. Your name shall never be forgotten._

He pressed his head to the stone, wracked with grief, while miles distant, a Jotun king felt his connection to his wife snap and he too screamed in pain.

As two very different men mourned the loss of the woman they had loved, Astra’s spirit hovered over them, unable to comfort them, unseen and unnoticed, ghostly tears tracking her face.

Until a woman with golden wings drew her away. _Come, daughter. Grief is for the living. But you have a very different destiny._

 

The pelting rain made Odin get to his feet, recalling his last promise to Astra. He would not fail her, not now. He would keep his promise and save her son, who must be barely a week old, if that. Odin recalled that there had been a new star in the sky over Asgard when Astra had contacted him telling her she had a son and heir for Jotunheim named . . . what had she named her son?

Scratching his head, Odin strode towards the temple in the main square of the city. _Loki. Yes, that was what Astra had called him. It was an old family name, one that belonged to an ancestor of hers. It meant . . ._ Odin felt himself draw a blank but it hardly mattered.

He squinted and saw the flat stone temple looming before him. Unslinging Gungnir from its holder on his back, the Asgardian king held the Black Spear before him and kicked the door open.

There was no one in the front entryway of the temple. Odin pushed open the inner doors and found the interior lit by blue light torches that illuminated the altar to the Frost Goddess and a blanket wrapped bundle atop it.

A skinny Jotun priest dressed in an icy blue robe and decked with more gold than a vault, or so it seemed, turned to face the intruder. He wore his white hair in a long tail festooned with Frost Opals and sapphires. “Get thee hence, Asgardian scum! How dare you profane the House of the Lady?”

“Me, profane your temple?” Odin sneered. “And you do not, who would spill innocent blood?” he gestured to the bundle, who began to wail.

Krishna spat. “Pfthah! The babe is weak and will die anyway! He is a disgrace to this kingdom. Better he dies like the mongrel he is than lives to become the shame of all Jotunheim!”

“And you call yourself a priest? Even your Frost Lady does not require the sacrifice of a baby! You disgusting coward!” Odin thrust Gungnir out and slammed the Jotun in the gut with the butt end, knocking the wind from him.

As the priest lay sprawled by his boots, Odin growled, “Get out! Before I run you through, you miserable bugger!”

Krishna scrambled to his feet. “I curse you, Asgardian!” He began, making the sign for ill luck. Then he yelped as Odin stabbed Gungnir at his leg.

“Run! Before you end up like the last Jotun I fought!” Odin ordered.

Krishna fled, whimpering, nearly soiling himself in fear.

Odin turned to see to the crying baby upon the alter.

He stuck Gungnir back in its holder and reached his gauntleted hands out to pick up the crying infant. Then he stopped and pulled them off. They were rough mail and leather and this was a baby, with delicate skin like rose petals.

“There now, little scamp!” he crooned and scooped up the small baby—small for a Jotun perhaps, but just the right size for an Asgardian baby.

Odin lifted the wee blue-skinned babe in his arms, cradling him with the experience of a seasoned father. He could recall holding both Balder and Thor this way when they were newborns.  He peered down at the baby, worried that the wee thing was frightened because he had on his helm and only one eye.

He noticed that besides the blue skin, the baby also had the crimson eyes of a full Jotun, and the clan markings, the same ones Laufey had. “You look like your father, little one,” Odin said softly.

The infant gazed up at him, round and plump-cheeked and Odin could not fathom how anyone could wish harm upon this precious sweet baby. Suddenly, the blue skin began to change and before Odin’s eyes he was now holding a rosy-cheeked infant with eyes as green as emeralds and a thatch of dark hair.

“Just like Astra’s!” he exclaimed. “You seem to have inherited the shifter power of your father, and your Asgardian shape is just like your mother’s. How I miss her!” A tear fell from his eye to splash upon Loki’s cheek.

Loki, as if sensing Odin’s pain, began to whimper and cry.

Odin rocked him and said, “Shhh! Don’t cry, my son. Your papa’s here, Loki.”

Loki swiftly stopped whimpering and smiled instead. The baby’s smile was like sunshine after a rainstorm, it lit up his whole face from within until he glowed. His evergreen eyes sparked and Odin blinked away the tears and smiled in return.

“You are a real charmer, aren’t you? Just wait until Frigga sees you. She will fall in love with you just like I have.” Odin crooned. He muttered a spell to keep the baby’s nascent shifter powers asleep for a time, so he could not shift back to his Jotun form. His people would never accept him else.

Loki laughed, and despite his aching heart, the Allfather found the sound of the baby prince’s laughter to bring sunshine to his heart and kindle it with joy.

Odin looked about and found a length of cloth, probably used to drape the altar. He folded it and then placed Loki in the middle of it and tied a makeshift sling which he placed about his neck. This way he could safely carry the babe and use Gungnir at the same time.

Loki burbled and waved his tiny fists in the sling.

“You will always have a home with me,” Odin vowed. “I fear this war, which was none of my doing, has made you an orphan, little Loki. And now I mourn the deaths of two friends. But even the darkest night has stars. You are my star, Loki. The one bright thing in this awful day.”

He bent and kissed the baby on the forehead. Loki giggled.

Odin smiled, a bittersweet smile. He knew he would always miss Astra. But at least the Norns had seen fit to let him keep this tiny replica of Astra, the last remnant of her.  That would have to be enough.

He sent a message to the commander of his troops using his communication ring to withdraw and cease all attacks immediately.

After receiving an affirmative, he called, “Heimdall! Open Bifrost!”

As the rainbowed light took them to a far away land, Loki’s laughter echoed in the interface, innocence and light in a joyous refrain. He was snug and warm in the arms of this stranger, no longer freezing and fearful upon the grim altar of stone.  Cramming his fist into his mouth, Loki sucked upon it, his eyes wide and wondering as they reappeared in a warm golden land that soon he would call home, cradled close by the king who he would know as his father, Odin’s last promise to Astra fulfilled.

Odin waved to Heimdall and continued toward the palace, anxious to introduce Loki to Frigga and together they could concoct a story to explain his sudden appearance. He prayed that his wife would adore Loki, the child of her best friend, Astra, and he hoped that Thor and Balder would welcome their new brother as well.

Odin shifted and held Loki up so he could see the landscape as they went by. He noticed the baby’s curious eyes fixed on everything, alert and wondering, quite amazing for a child his age. But the Allfather had a feeling that his youngest would continue to surprise him.  Odin smiled at his newest addition and murmured, “Welcome home, Loki Odinson.”


End file.
